Jackal Among Snakes

“What do you think?” Argrave questioned Anneliese. The two of them sat on rather comfortable chairs just before a table. Despite the safety of the tower, neither removed their enchanted armor—the Tower was safe, but it was still better to be overcautious. They were in a private room, warded to block sound—commonplace in the tower.

Anneliese crossed one leg over the other. “Of the tower?” she asked, and when Argrave nodded to confirm, she said, “It is a bit… ostentatious, if I am honest.”

“Got that right. It’s no coincidence it’s in the middle of a plain. It’s a big, useless monument to pride. I think Castro would agree. You met him before, now that I think back,” Argrave settled into his chair, then sighed. “Induen’s dead.”

“You feel relieved,” she said—a statement, not a question.

“Yeah,” Argrave said, voice distant. “The provisional route I made at the beginning of… whatever the hell you call my presence in this realm, it’s veered quite far off course. And now, I’m planning to take us further from it.”

“I will help as best I can,” Anneliese only assured him.

“How are you handling these developments?” Argrave asked her.

Anneliese shifted in her chair uncomfortably. “I have been trying to focus myself on this place, this tower, and what might be within… I suppose that should tell you enough. I am nervous. I am afraid. We have angered something very powerful.”

Argrave snorted. “Hearing you’re curious about this place just tells me you’re the same person at root.” He looked to her. “But forget about who we’ve angered. Induen’s death wasn’t a crime of passion—it was a great damned opportunity. King Felipe’s angry, I’m a kinslayer—all of these consequences pale in comparison to the good that one act did, pragmatically and morally.”

“I never said I doubted your actions,” Anneliese soothed.

“I know you didn’t. I said it half to myself, honestly. But…” Argrave adjusted his sleeve. “Hearing him make that suggestion about your future—that got under my skin like nothing else. If I could have made him—”

The door to the room opened, cutting Argrave off. A short man with a straight back and a wrinkled, almost leathery bald head entered. He seemed kind and harmless. He looked far too small to threaten or intimidate, and the amiable smile practically writ on his face spoke to his kindness. Calling him kind was true enough, but Castro was light years away from being harmless.

Argrave rose to his feet at once. “Tower Master Castro,” he said eagerly. “Thought we’d be waiting longer—planned for a long conversation with Anneliese.”

“Ah…” his eyes jumped between the two of them.

“I’m Argrave,” he put his hand to his chest. “We spoke at—”

“Did you think I’d forgotten?” Castro interrupted, then stepped a bit closer after he shut the door. “No, I was simply… deeply awed by your progress. Both of you… my memory is not perfect, but your improvements seem utterly tremendous.”

an intense sincerity to them that practically forced both to smile. The fact he was happy eased Argrave—it likely meant he had not heard of Induen’s fate quite yet, nor had the rest

certain products from certain schools of necromancy, Order of the Rose-era creatures… large portions of both soul and magic power crystallize in the eye, preventing decay while retaining sight. The crystallized soul is

awed when Castro so quickly identified

we’re here,” Argrave redirected, trying not to act

finger above his head until he tapped Argrave’s chest. “But beyond that, I would not like to see

know an awful lot about necromancy. Can pinpoint exact details,”

finger back. “I am a curious person, and I

the same. But for the record—these,” Argrave pointed to his eyes. “These are from surgery and alchemy, not necromancy.” Argrave shook his head, then sat back down at the chair. “Can we sit, talk? Like I mentioned in the message I

young lady Anneliese. Though your friend here drew my eye… you are no less the achiever, I

Castro,” she greeted with

grown… and not merely in terms of magic, that is evident.” Castro bobbed his head as he thought of something. “Well, I imagine you had other matters to discuss,” he said as he sat. “Come to milk me more, hmm? Another offer to turn a profit?

would just be insolence. Castro did not lead the Order of the Gray

illicitly distributing spellbooks through Jast,” he leaned back into the chair. “But, at the end of the day, more members of the order are learning druidic spells. In time, they will permeate throughout the Order. All is well that ends well. And nothing concrete traces back to you… or your smuggler friends, there. After all, Elaine of Vyrbell might not have recommended Anneliese to be an honorary Wizard had you not done what you did. That would be a

the chair. “You might start unnerving me if you know what

a little less genial, now. Only a little. “So, what is it you want from me? Do you wish me to expedite your ascendency to High Wizards of the Order? I am afraid that

Anneliese. “And we did not

of you,” said Argrave. “I’d like help with a gift for my sister. I’m going to be visiting her soon, you see, and I can’t come empty-handed. And on that note… I’d like a ride to the

sentiment. I’m sure it will be appreciated. But how do

Order of the Rose that might be recovered. That’s my offering to you,” Argrave held his hands up. “But within…

staring at Argrave with

explained. “Hellish place. Wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But I learned a lot. Gained a lot.” And made some unexpected acquaintances, he left that last part

Castro’s eyes jumped between

been busy, I see,” Castro remarked. “Well… certainly I can organize a team, have them come

be you, personally,” Argrave leaned forward, trying to

frowned, bushy white brows descending. “I cannot. I have pressing matters to

going to Magister Moriatran to ask, next,” Argrave said—the man was ostensibly Castro’s largest rival, a councilor on the ruling body of the Order of the Gray Owl

scratched his cheek. “I do not say I have matters to attend to for the sake of dodging this request—I am genuinely busy. My

leaning yet more forward ‘til he nearly fell off

in. When he looked at her, she shook her head to indicate it was hopeless. Argrave slumped back into the chair, finally

fortresses are few and far between, and I would jump at the opportunity if I did not have other concerns. Alas, the trappings of power.” Castro scratched the back of his neck. “I am told the Margrave sought aid from the Tower for the plague by your advice,” Castro noted. “And I’ve heard other whispers, too, from the northwest. I am not ignorant of the good you’ve done, and you have earned something.” Castro smiled, then pointed. “Speaking of the good you’ve done—you’ve yet to receive